


There are some Memories Alcohol can't Help With

by Watashi_wa_Okami



Series: A Souls Vessel [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alcohol works I guess, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bottom Gintoki, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugged Sex, Gintoki needs a hug, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Joui War, Katsura tries, M/M, Memories, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Canon, Pre-Joui General Status, Rape/Non-con Elements, Repressed Memories, Sad Gintoki, Sexual Violence, Sorry Not Sorry, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, War, asshole ocs, okay i'm done, they all fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watashi_wa_Okami/pseuds/Watashi_wa_Okami
Summary: Sometimes Katsura will reflect on the time Gintoki saved them, but they never tried to save him.Referenced in chapter one and three and probably a few others of "Try and Try Again (where Hijikata will never give up)"
Relationships: Katsura Kotarou & Sakamoto Tatsuma & Sakata Gintoki & Takasugi Shinsuke, Katsura Kotarou & Yoshida Shouyou, Sakata Gintoki & Yoshida Shouyou, Sakata Gintoki/Original Male Character(s), Takasugi Shinsuke & Yoshida Shouyou
Series: A Souls Vessel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1416559
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	There are some Memories Alcohol can't Help With

**Author's Note:**

> Do I love hurting Gintoki? Yes, yes I do. Will this be the only fic of it's kind in this series? No, not it will not be. Will I feel sorry for any of them. Nope.

When Shoyou gets taken, they all feel lost. Afraid. Unsure. And hurt. So, so hurt. Like a piece of their heart had been stolen away from them and they hadn't the chance to protect it.

Gintoki drifts after that and they have no doubt that his entire heart was ripped from his chest. Because he fought and he failed and Shouyou-sensei was his everything.

He tells them that he needs to protect them, that he will. They all listen to him (it's always been easy to ignore that Gintoki, too, is just a child.)

When Takasugi decides he wants to get sensei back, they all agree. When he says they have to go to war, Gintoki's the first to fight it. They have their own mini civil war and they fight back and forth, snarling and growling about how awful the idea is but _sensei._ The bulk of the people take Takasugi’s side.

“I’ll do _anything_ to bring him back to us,” Takasugi hisses, glaring at Gintoki.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for. He wouldn’t want us to go into that.”

“I’ll go to hell and back for him.”

“You’ll be going to hell, all right,” Gintoki says, the words bitter in his mouth, "but you won't come back.” Takasugi growls and spits and stomps his foot, angry because he can’t shout in his friends face the typical _What would you know?_ line, because they all know that Gintoki knows. Many of them were there when the child would get startled awake by nightmares, nightmares he never elaborated on. Nightmares consisting of unseeing eyes and the hateful bite of a blade. Of a threatening sea of blood ready to drown anyone who got stuck in it.

And for a long time (too long, they would sometimes whisper at night as they watched the boy fidget,) Gintoki drowned in that thick red sea.

“Well, I’m going!” Takasugi yells. “Any of you who want to save our _sensei_ , come with me. The rest of you _cowards_ can stay with your _coward_ of a leader. A poser who couldn’t even stop those spiders.” It’s a low blow. A _really_ low blow, and they all know it. They all saw how distraught Gintoki was. Bruised and bleeding and left coughing up blood from hard hard he pressed against the staffs at his neck, but not caring for anything other than the fact that he couldn’t stop them from taking his sensei. They all know that Takasugi is going to wake up and hate himself, he always does for the things he tends to say to Gintoki. But this tops the others by far.

Gintoki just looks at Takasugi and blinks for a moment. He doesn’t seem angry, which is odd for the one person who fights back. He just looks at his friend.

“Ah,” He exhales and scans the group behind Takasugi. They're not all entirely behind going to war and they should be hesitate. Those're the ones that'll make it farther. But their eyes are wide, flicking between someone they align with and someone they can trust. Even Takasugi trembles, but he bites his lip until it bleeds and levels Gintoki with a steady gaze. “Then… I guess we'll go,” He says, and Katsura and a few others can tell that he really, _really_ doesn’t want to. They all know he, to some extent, hated it. “Someone has to keep an eye on you idiots.”

And they go. The ones who didn’t want to, Gintoki doesn’t let. Even when they try to switch, tugging at his sleeves and shy in their convictions, he pushes them away. Vicious and cold with a stern _no._

(He finds them, months later. Eyes glassy and heads turned, half-buried in slippery mud. He'd been searching for survivors and instead he found himself frozen in place, sinking in that same mud and wishing it would drown him. He drags them back - the only bodies he would ever do so to, corpses that don't care on whether they'd be buried but _he_ _does dammit._ Because he thought - he'd saved them, he had, he'd tried. And he failed.

(He stayed silent as he reached camp and refusing to meet anyone's eyes as he found the small bodies a tree they may like. And, alone, he dug those graves that would be smaller than his own, scrapping the Earth with rusted weapons and clawing at rocks until his palms tore and his fingertips numbed. He never confronts Takasugi about it.)

They’re fourteen almost fifteen when they walk into the camp. Hungry for blood and vengeance, they act with the sort of anger and adult could contain, not some kids. The soldiers, war-weary and tired, worry about the new kids. When asked to test their strength, they beg Gintoki to fight for them. To show what the person who is arguably the strongest of their group can do.

Surprisingly, Takasugi doesn't argue.

Gintoki, used to war and how to fight in one, easily takes down the soldier. He uses his size to his advantage and the loose dirt beneath him also became a plus as he downs the man. The soldiers accept the kids and some even help to train the ones who really need it.

Gintoki begs to hold those not ready behind until he says so. And they agree, for as long as they can.

The boys become restless and scared and horny. Many of them indulge in themselves but no one mentions it. They all, at some point or another, lose themselves to the fear and the adrenaline and the idea that they might just die with no one to mourn them in the end _(except Gintoki,_ they whisper in the dark, _Gintoki'll make it._ ) Gintoki doesn’t say a word and when people ask him if he’ll run off with them for a moment, he declines, cuffs them on the head, and sends them off with a warning to not be _too_ stupid. They run away feeling much their age.

When they’re well into their sixteenth year alive (because it’s not much of a life but they’re living and breathing,) they're forced to fight another losing battle and it goes as they had expected. But the loses tear into their ranks and leave unfillable gaps. When Gintoki returns to the camp, limping and bloodied, he notices that his closest friends are missing (as are many other faces he grew to love, but he had already found them, maggots having already crawled into their wounds and eyes a lifeless gray.) He checks everywhere, every inch and crevice they could possibly be, but they are nowhere to be seen.

A cold stone plops into his stomach and he can’t shake it off. His hands shake as he prays to all that is gracious (whether or not he believes in the existence of something is unimportant to him right then,) that his friends are alive.

He wouldn't stop looking until he found them, be it alive or as corpses. They didn't have anyone else to mourn them so he sure as hell would.

(But could he keep going? With them gone, could he save sensei? Did he have the strength to?)

He hunts them down. He trails around the battlefield and eyes the crows. They never lie and they point him in the right direction, leading him to a path of carcasses, cart tracks, and dragged footprints. It isn't long before he smells the camp. Upon creeping to the edge, he sees the shelter. It's a walkable distance away and he only had three days before he had to get back. That or they'd leave him behind (or so they said, but he's sure they wouldn't leave him, one of their strongest, nor the up and coming trio he's gone to retrieve.)

He stakes out. He can't be sure that they're here, so he waits. It isn't long before he hears three familiarly obnoxious voices. Sometimes he hears Takasugi's sharp tongue, and sometimes Katsura is the one who, in his gentlemanly way, tells the people to _fuck off._ Sakamoto just laughs and laughs and laughs until something gets shoved in his mouth. Many guards are at the buildings entrance by this pont, watching the scene and cackling at the stupidity within.

But the volume escalates and some of the guards leave the doorway. He needs to get in their, and fast.

He creeps towards the camps border and takes off the more clunky pieces of armor.

Stealth it is.

He gets the ones at the edge first, pulling them and slitting throats before they have the chance to call out. He drags them, out of sight, out of mind (but not so far that they'll be forgotten, he hopes there's someone to mourn them.)

But now he has some distance to cover and the amount of warriors is disconcerting. But he's always been good against odds and ten swords are nothing compared to the amanto he's faced.

So he sneaks up as far as he can but they don't miss the _shink_ of him drawing his blade.

In a flurry, Gintoki sends three flying and kills another two in a rush of red and silver.

He hears the _click_ and the sting that follows is immediate. It zaps his muscles, forcing them all to tense and the second his grip falters they tackle him. He can't keep hold of his sword, can hardly turn his head to see the lazer-like gun. The zapping leaves him breathless and trembling in the aftermath.

 _Damn,_ he'd growl if he could. This must've been how they got the other three. After all, they never expected the amanto to give their technology to humans.

Gintoki gets straight up _thrown_ into the room. He lands and hits his head against the ground, throwing him for another nauseating loop. But he schools his expression as he thrown up onto his knees. By the time he meets Takasugi's scowl, there's nothing anyone could do to break his facade.

"So you got caught, huh, Bakasugi?" Gintoki says as he scans the others for injuries. A few bruises blossom here and there alongside minor cuts, but they're fine. They're strong. "And while you're trying to form your own little group. What'll they think of their soon-to-be leader-"

"Shut it. You got caught too," he bites back. "What'll anyone think of the Shiroyash-" Katsura elbows Takasugi in the ribs, tearing into the rope and cutting off Takasugi's sentence. Only, he's a tad too late and everyone heard.

"Oh, so _you're_ what the people are talking about. The 'Shiroyasha.'" One of them says. One that Gintoki hadn't really cared to notice until he spoke, jiggling all his chins along the way. He's the sort of general type, the one that grits on Gintoki's nerves because he _knows_ this man just sends people to their death without putting his own life on the line. He didn't think this through, capturing all their warriors and holding them in the same place. "I don't see what all the fuss is about, such a young one like yourself is hardly a demon."

"Ara, ara, who's letting this pig rant? I'm only interesting in talking to pretty ladies," Gintoki drawls and his friends could imagine he'd pick his nose if he could. His remark makes the room bristle and he hears the _shink_ before a sword presses against his neck. Lightly but no less threatening, and for extra measure they slide and cut deep enough to draw blood. The general's blood boils and his face develops an unhealthy shade of red.

Gintoki snorts. "You can all see the pig now, right? It can't just be me, right? I'll give you 300 yen to agree with me, but come on, you didn't even have to squint. Just tilt your head a bit-"

 _"Silence!"_ The man howls and marches towards Gintoki. However, the permed idiot just looks up and to all the world seems completely uninterested. "I see we'll have to fix that sharp tongue of yours." He growls but again he doesn't advance.

"For all that big talk, you sure seem scared," Gintoki taunts because the general's shaking, he can see it in all the fat and the hesitance in his walk. The sword against his neck move again and Gintoki begins to feel the sting and warm blood pools down his neck.

"Let me kill this insect, march his head around on a stick. That'll deplete moral, their poor Shiroyasha being dead," the sword-man says but then a smirk forms on the pig's face, morphing him to look more like a demon than the one he's looking at.

"No, that's too quick a death for this p-scoundrel."

"Wait, you were gonna say pig, weren't you. He was gonna say pig - that means you know you look like a pig-" Gintoki's mouth gets clamped just by a different soldier, jaw slammed so quickly he bites his tongue and feels the warm liquid fill his mouth. 

_"Shut. It."_ They're trying to seem all intimidating but all of their prisoners have mirth shining in their eyes, and the one with the sock in his mouth is crying from choked laughter.

"He needs some pain first," the pig states and pulls out a syringe of some kind. That immediately sobers them all, though they refuse to let it show. He steps forward, but only when Gintoki has two adult men keeping him down. Gintoki flicks his eyes to the beige liquid and unease pools in his gut.

_That's not normal._

He doesn't let his stoic expression budge in the slightest. He'd love to mess with the guy more, because the syringe seems like some sort of foreplay but the generals too much of a pig, he should change it to an apple in his mouth and-

The thought doesn't even get the chance. He didn't zone out of reality per se but he wasn't paying full attention. There wasn't much he could do to stop it anyway. But the man injects the syringe deep and it almost nicks a nerve with the sharp sensation that travels through his arm.

The liquid goes in next but Gintoki doesn't watch it disappear. But he feels the moment it's all in him. He blinks, and it doesn't hit right away but two blinks later the world begins to swirl. Then the colors almost pulsate, designs not moving but not _not_ moving either.

He isn't sure when they let his jaw go but it's hanging open, pants forcing themselves between parted lips and his thoughts refuse to stay clear, muddled as he can't quite figure out where to focus. His friends? The pig? The colors?

"Eh," he groans and tries to blink the world into focus, "my Mom told me to not do drugs, ya know? What am I supposed to tell her now?" It's his usual gag but it helps his trapped allies relax ever so slightly.

"You can go first." The words don't really process, not much does. Not until the sword at his throat falls away and clangs against the hard floor.

Then he gets pushed into the ground, it's uncomfortable and odd and pain spikes through him. He might be a warrior but he isn't _that_ flexible. So he threatens them with a low growl.

"Realized what that drug is, _Shiroyasha-san?_ " He purrs in Gintoki's ear, mocking him with a name that he loathes and treating it as a pet name more than anything. 

"You must be familiar with amanto technology, you've been fighting it so long," the pig says with a rumbling chortle. "This... enhances the senses, I believe. This is the first time I've used it. Tell me how it is afterwards. Oh wait, you won't really get the chance, will you?" He laughs and laughs but Gintoki doesn't smile. During the rant, the pressure on Gintoki's wrist loosens until the rope's entirely gone. Not that Gintoki can do much and hands are quick to replace it.

But hands untied is enough. They've underestimated him and regardless of sobriety he's a warrior through and through (a demon, really.)

He swivels, throwing a foot out and striking the man right behind him. _Hard._ The man slams into the wall and slumps, unprepared and disoriented as he shakes his head and looks at the permed samurai.

Gintoki picks himself up but as he turns to his friends, he freezes. The world's still blurry but he can't miss the shape of someone holding a gun to a head. There's two people, one with two guns, the other at Takasugi, all of them prepared to blow their brains out.

The last thing Gintoki wants to happen.

"I suggest you cooperate," the pig growls but he had stepped back into the safety of his mean. Gintoki glowers at the man, red eyes glowing brightly. Demonically. This time he doesn't have much of a choice. One step out of line and they're dead. Then this all would've been for nothing, they'll probably off him too, and Takasugi will never let him live it down.

The man, the one Gintoki threw away in that kick, has gathered himself. But he's glaring at Gintoki and the sword in his hand is held in a white-knuckled grip. He stomps towards Gintoki but the man doesn't move. He grins shark-like and predatorial before gripping Gintoki's wrists once more. No resistance. So, he slams Gintoki into the ground and for extra effect he slams Gintoki's head too.

Gintoki's quick to realize that 'enhances the senses' means a lot more than color.

His brain becomes a puddle and his eyes won't focus, not this time. And the man above him doesn't give him the chance. The sword, already unsheathed, enters his vision in a blinding silver glint.

He gasps as it sinks through his arm and into the ground. The pain shoots through him and he can _feel_ the cold chipped metal. His nerves scream and flame, blood oozing and it almost gurgles - but maybe that's the drugs. It would be fascinating if it didn't draw out a searing pain. The numbness doesn't take over like it should, at least, it takes longer. Long enough for his arms to tremble and Gintoki to think of little more.

Adrenaline would be _great_ right then. But for some amanto-damned reason, the adrenaline and the numbness doesn't take over and Gintoki would scream if he didn't have his buddies to worry about. So he clenches his jaw and bites his tongue.

But Gintoki does hiss out the pain and he forces his trembling lungs to _breathe._

“I’ve always wanted a hole there.” Gintoki remarks but he presses his forehead to the cold ground and lets that ground him.

"I'll gladly give you a few more," the man whispers into Gintoki's ear and that makes the teen freeze.

He knows that tone. He can practically _feel_ the man's intent. He knows, _he knows_ _._

Gintoki's eyes just... blank. For the pain, for the shock, for the drugs, his eyes grow dull and he can hardly feel any of it. But he does raise his head enough to look at the trio. Yet his eyes stay dead to the world and _that_ is what scares them the most. More than the cold barrel of a gun pressed to their heads, more than the drug that they're sure that pig of a general has more of, more than their fear that Gintoki might abandon him (of course he wouldn't, and now he can't.) Typically, Gintoki has his uninterested expression but there's almost always a glint in them. A spark of life, of something. Yet right then and there, they watch something within him die as he gets pushed down yet again.

The sword gets torn from his forearm but he doesn't even flinch, nothing except for the forced raise of his arms as the uneven sword gets caught in its exit. The blood pools out once again, staining his arms and white sleeves in a familiar red.

 _I don't care._ The old mantra echoes in his head, bouncing off as the only available thought. _I don't care, I don't care._

 _For my friends._ He's only shocked for a moment by the addition and it brings some life back into him. Some. He has a good solid reason for what's about to happen. For letting this happen. It almost erases the guilt of breaking his promise to Shouyou. Almost. _For my friends, for my friends._

Gintoki hears the loosening of straps and he feels the pants fall. He begins pumping himself and Gintoki wants to groan. He doesn't watch and he doesn't want to hear it. When he rips Gintoki's pants in his haste, Gintoki raises a brow.

he can't help himself.

"So your boss looks like a pig and you're as desperate-" he exhales and wheezes. No preparation, no warning. No nothing. The man shoves his whole length into him. "As one," Gintoki finishes through a clenched jaw. The man on top of him hisses. It can't be pleasant for him either. Gintoki can feel old cuts - maybe even scars, he's never checked - begin to tear. AS though these men have had nothing to fuck but their own hands. They all seem to drool at the possibility that Gintoki has seemingly provided.

But he only needs one chance.

But it hurts. Much, much worse than it ever had before. Before, there was some preparation. Some fingering here and there, maybe some liquid so soften it up, anything. And if there was nothing, they tended to be gentle because it hurt them too. But they have nothing now and the pain shoots to his brain. The scratching, the bruising on his hips, the pumping in and out and the tearing of his insides. For a moment, Gintoki just wants to die or scream or _something_ because he feels it. He feels it all and his every nerve is against it, burning and tearing, on fire and oh he _wishes_ he had the food in him to shit right then.

That'd be a solution. Although, they'd probably kill him right then and there and that's not how he's going to Hell, no way.

The tearing sensation doesn't leave but he does get some sort of lubricant. Although it's blood and the friction against the cuts makes him bite his lips. But for a moment, he's angry at himself. Because he's sixteen dammit. He's done this before, so why does it hurt _so much._

He doesn’t cry. That’s not what he does. Gintoki doesn’t _cry_. He bites his lip until it bleeds and he ignores that heightened feeling of pain as best he can but he doesn't cry (although he might've, if those three were watching this he might've. But they closed their eyes when they realized what was gonna happen.) They press his face into the hard ground and stick fingers in his mouth and he _hates_ how saliva falls from his lips but he can't stop it. The hand is roughly tangled in his hair, yanking his neck back with a _pop_ on a specially violent thrust.

He doesn’t speak. And although the person above him moans and there’s the sound of skin on skin, Gintoki doesn’t make a single noise outside of the occasional exhale forced from his lungs. He watched as his friends, horrified and disgusted, closed their eyes and turned their heads. Expressions tight and uncomfortable. He knows they feel guilty, he knows they don’t want to hear this and would cover their ears if they could. The people with the guns are too distracted by the sight to really notice much of anything. Gintoki looks around, pretending to all that are watching that he’s in too much pain to comprehend anything. But he’s knows he’s not at that point, not yet.

He flicks his eyes and sees the forgotten sword, but it’s just a little bit too far. One hard rock would get him to reach it, and he turns his torso _just enough_ so that he’s ready for his chance. His shoulder scrapes against the hard ground, and it _hurts_ as his skin gets torn, but he ignores it.

_For my friends, for my friends._

He looks back and the person’s eyes are closed tight in pained pleasure.

 _For my friends_.

Gintoki turns and for all the pain it causes him and how uncomfortable the feeling is, he gets his hands on the man’s neck. He just forgets about the sword, because seeing that face, he learns he wants the man dead by his own hands. _Now_. His fingers wrap around the head and neck and he cracks it, and Gintoki knows that the man will be alive just long enough after to learn what had happened. He hopes that pain comes with it as well. Gintoki then swings his leg around, ignoring the uncomfortable pain that comes from spreading all the tears wider than he’d like, and he grabs the sword with his feet, bringing it to his hands. He plants that foot and gets on his knee with the other, and in one swipe he kills the two men with guns. Their fingers weren’t prepared to pull the triggers even if they wanted to.

Sakamoto, Takasugi, and Katsura remain shocked for a moment, slightly afraid to open their eyes. Everything they had heard happened too fast, fast enough that they’re sure it was Gintoki, but they still have their doubts. So, Gintoki dignifies himself by pulling up his pants before turning to the pig of a leader.

“Any last words?” Gintoki asks and the man opens his mouth. Mercilessly, Gintoki stabs right though, and makes the man choke on the sword. Blood gurgles up and pours from his mouth and nose as he seizes. Gintoki just kicks the man over and lets him twitch, waiting for death. “I’ll put _oink_ on your grave,” He states blandly knowing full well the man probably won’t get a proper burial. Next, he cuts the ropes binding his friends before looking to the closed doors. “Guns aren’t too hard to use, are they,” He asks but it doesn’t sound like a question. Takasugi fiddles with it for a moment, Sakamoto gives a strained chuckle, but Katsura just eyes Gintoki for a moment. The permed man doesn’t wait for a response and just kicks the doors open, killing anyone he sees.

Whenever he stumbles, one of them has his back. They all ignore what it’s most likely caused by.

They walk back to camp at a pace just a tad slower than normal. No one comments on Gintoki’s slight limp. They know he doesn’t want them to say anything, and they even try to act as normal but Sakamoto's laugh is strained and Katsura's comebacks hold no fire. When they reach the camp, they’re quiet, reserved, and Gintoki disappears to get ready for the upcoming battle. Alone.

They all pretend they didn’t see how dead Gintoki seemed. They pretend that they all just happen to be by Gintoki’s side in the next battle, ready to take care of any slip up he may have.

They never ask. He never tells.

Later on, he finds solace in the fact that he didn’t really break his promise to Shouyou. He didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t for money, nor was it to survive. It _was_ for his soul - Sakamoto snuck in, the bastard. Katsura was a given and Takasugi... Takasugi would always be a part of his soul, one that Gintoki will have to voluntarily tear out. But he'll hold off on that for as long as he can and he'll drink to ignore that fact. He finds solace in the fact that, that time he really was forced. But on nights where memories invade his dreams, alcohol helps. He especially drinks when he begins to question whether or not that instance was his fault. And he drinks to ignore the fact that he doesn’t know.

(It never helps and it only makes him feel worse.)


End file.
